


Fake News

by whatdidyouexpect (youdbetterbeready)



Category: Avengers Assemble (Cartoon), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Battleworld (Marvel), Everyone can have a little dubcon as a treat, FrostIron - Freeform, Gay Chicken, M/M, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, Thor has a pet bilgesnipe, Tonald Stank, Transthormers: Lokis in Disguise, We Have Always Lived in The Tower, Wild West Land, adjacent Stony, adjacent Thorki, we don't talk about Avengers Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:42:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23041942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youdbetterbeready/pseuds/whatdidyouexpect
Summary: Loki refuses to cop to some hard truths regarding his and Tony Stark's potentially sordid shared past, and things kind of escalate from there.
Relationships: Loki/Thor, Loki/Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 4
Kudos: 26





	Fake News

**Author's Note:**

  * For [patientalien](https://archiveofourown.org/users/patientalien/gifts).
  * Inspired by ["Fake News" Mood Board](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/711970) by patientalien. 



> The season four Battleworld/Secret Wars arc in the Avengers Assemble cartoon is ripe for built-in 'everyone lives in the Tower'-style stories without needing to go full-AU. Suffice it to say, this isn't my first foray into the use of such a convenient plot device, and it certainly won't be the last. Like the Assemble writers, I pretty much ship everyone together in some capacity; even though this primarily focuses on interactions between Tony and Loki, you can find adjacent Thorki, Stony, etc. with but a moderate amount of squinting. 
> 
> Megan McLaren is a canon character in various Marvel mediums, but I've got to admit that her Assemble 'verse personality is my favorite; Loki impersonates her in season two, episode three ("Valhalla Can Wait") of Assemble, though she has other appearances throughout the series. Her and April O'Neil can be girlfriends who meet at a support group for, idk, news reporters whom nobody will believe regarding their interactions with giant crime-fighting turtles slash getting regularly possessed slash impersonated by mischief-making gods from the Norse pantheon.

1\. 

There was a working video feed for New York City's most prominent news station on Battleworld, because of course there was. It was an obvious power move by the Beyonder, a measure of how far his reach extended to bestow upon the citizens of his cobbled together world the ability to communicate with one another without fear that they might use it against him. Mostly, it added to the overall sense of absurdity that, Tony figured, most of his fellow galactic kidnappees felt, regardless of how quickly they seemed to assimilate into wherever they may have been flung. 

"A reminder to citizens of New New York to remain indoors after dusk, in order to avoid any unpleasant interactions with rock trolls. Up next: The weather ..."

The large, flat monitor mounted on a wall in Tony's lab now began to flip through a slew of commercials, apparently Battleworld's attempt at normalcy through a continued adherence to capitalism. Eventually, the news reporter from before returned for the promised five-day forecast. Tony glanced for a moment at the familiar bob. "Good to see Megan McLaren's still doing what she does best." Momentarily, he set down the device he'd been fiddling with and stretched his arms. "Hey," he called to the room's only other occupant; "how'd you make sure the real Megan didn't mess up your whole world domination via sending the team muscle to Valhalla deal that one time?"

At his own unofficial workspace, Loki smirked. "A temporary sleep paralysis spell subdued her. The poor girl slept straight through Avengers Day."

"Yeah, wonder how that happened." Tony rolled his eyes. "We had a thing once or twice. Like, times, oh, five or ten. Maybe twenty. You know, real Megan, not you-Megan, of course. Wasn't bad."

"I suppose if you keep telling yourself that, your mind will eventually pave over the truth." 

Tony snorted. "As always, your particular brand of brutal honesty only adds to your already immense charm, Lokes." Then, he startled. "I, wait. You don't mean ... you didn't. We didn't."

Loki 'hmmed' with well-practiced apathy. "I wouldn't possibly know what you're referring to," he responded smoothly, growing more comfortable the more rattled Tony became.

"Look, it's a simple enough question: Just once? Twice? Three times a lady?" When he had finished snickering at his own reference, he continued. "Come on, it was only the one time, right?" When Loki didn't respond, he slammed his hand down on the table closest to him. "Tell me!" 

"Hmmm." Loki looked up from buffing his nails, a small smile playing up the corners of his mouth. "That would severely diminish my enjoyment of this - which, I might remind you, you owe me after your," he gave Tony an exaggerated once-over, "performance. Plural, I suppose."

"How many times plural?" Tony responded cagily. He racked his brain for a new angle: "Was it, did I take you out to dinner? Was it that one time in my limo? How many times did I unknowingly give Frosty the Frost Giant unsupervised access to Avengers Tower?"

"These are very informative questions." Like a snake wearing people clothes, Loki elegantly crossed one leg over the other, still perfectly content to remain slouched in his seat. Tony, meanwhile, had taken to pacing. "Look, if you must know," Loki conceded, "I mostly used the opportunities to look around, have a snack, leave a parting gift in Thor's bed."

"He thought his pet bilgesnipe was sick when he found that," Tony recalled. "Then the whole thing got blamed on Hawkeye." The bemusement regarding this revelation was quickly replaced with a growing panic, however. "Loki, enough! Tell me what I want to know."

"All right." Tony subconsciously leaned in. "I can honestly tell you that ... I think the hair dye you use to cover your roots really helps to hide your thinning hairline."

"Oh, my God." His fingers itched to wrap themselves around Loki's neck. "You didn't like, give me anything, did you? Like, uh, space STDs, anything?"

Loki made a show of pressing a hand over his heart. "Why, I'm hurt you would assume such dreadful intentions from me, Tonald."

"Okay, I'm gonna ignore the fact that you think there is an equivalent of 'Ronald' for 'Tony' for now, and point out that in the past couple of years or so alone, you've arranged for your brother to be eaten by a giant snake; tricked him and Hulk into going to the underworld so you could steal Hel's army to help you conquer Earth; tricked Thor again into busting you out of Hel after he bested you at your own game; scattered us across the universe so you could turn Earth into your personal Santa's Workshop in our absence; and, apparently, dropped the Beyonder a comment card about our humble little planet for funsies." When Loki remained silent yet amused looking, he added, "so yeah, passing along Asgardian syphilis doesn't really seem out of the realm of something you might do."

"I see." Loki's mouth was only slightly pursed. "You have my word that I have not riddled you with parasites or knowingly diseased your genitals."

"Um. Thank you." Tony felt himself relax an iota. "And the rest of it? Ballpark range, how often did we, uh, get inflagrante delicto? Make the beast with two backs? Get horizontal, or into any other geometrical angle?"

Loki just smiled. "Oh, you know," he replied sunnily, "once or twice. Times five or ten. Maybe twenty. At least once in a ballpark." 

Tony sighed.

2\. 

The topic was broached once more some days later, a handful of Avengers clustered together in the Tower's giant living room. "Thor, Bilgie is so cute!" Kamala Khan, aka Ms. Marvel cooed. Recently, Thor's semi-domesticated beast of burden had become a point of fascination for some of the newer Avengers - perhaps even a somewhat overzealous attempt to make things in their current dystopian hellscape seem normal, which, who could blame them - Tony had even derived a modicum of amusement at seeing them try to take the thing on a walk recently. At present, the great lout had its gigantic tongue lolling out the side of its mouth as one of Kamala's 'embiggened' hands stroked its back. 

Wandering into the space then, arms laden with junk food, Hawkeye gave the creature a noticeably wide berth as he sought out a place in which to plant himself for the time being. "Trust me," he told Kamala, eyeing the beast dubiously, "it's not nearly so cute when you're downwind of it. It's like Hulk that way." He considered this, and then added, "in a lot of ways."

"Says the guy whose room was recently declared a hazardous waste zone," Hulk retorted. Next to him on a gigantic couch that they had all but permanently commandeered for video gaming, Thor smirked. "Nevermind what you did in Thor's room that one time." Thor's smile disappeared. 

"Come on, I told you that wasn't me!" Hawkeye's voice pitched upwards in frustration, high enough for Bilgie's beady-eyed, slobbery head to swivel around to stare at him. "Good boy," he gulped, sitting stock still until the creature seemed dissuaded and went back to gnawing on a gigantic bone, the origin of which remained a tactful mystery for the majority of the Tower's residents.

Up to that point, Tony had mostly been quietly flipping through news articles and such on his personal Stark Pad. (It was 'nice' of the Beyonder to provide them with some form of Internet access, however absurd the premise.) However, upon overhearing Hawkeye's plight, he was compelled to speak up. "It has actually recently come to my attention," he began, several pairs of eyes migrating with varying amounts of interest in his direction now, "that the true culprit behind the unnatural disaster between Thor's golden sheets was none other than ... " He stopped to do a short drum roll: "Our very own Lokalicious!" 

Once more, the room's occupants shifted their attention to a new focal point; this time, to Loki himself, currently occupying a papasan chair pulled as far into a corner as possible while still technically remaining in the same room, his nose in one of Tony's books. Glancing up, Loki's mouth quirked upwards. "I shall point out that the decision to excoriate Barton for such a misdeed had nothing to do with me," he intoned. "But in the interest of preserving my newfound reputation for nobility" - at least four pairs of eyes rolled at this - "then I confirm: Indeed, 'twas I, Loki, who made in Thor's bed."

"Brother," Thor said disapprovingly, looking hurt. Beside him, Hulk made a familiar smashing gesture with his fists, and Loki visibly paled. "As a joke, obviously. Keep your pants on, you green behemoth - for all our sakes."

"Speaking of which," Tony interjected. "Let's talk about how many times your pants - or uh, I guess pencil skirt - came off, 'Megan.'" When Loki remained uncharacteristically quiet, he added, "aw, don't be shy. Tell us about all those evenings spent extensively following leads for your special investigative report on the inner-workings of Stark Industries." 

Loki remained silent, his face blank. Tony could feel the rapt attention from around the room begin to color with confusion, even suspicion, and resisted the urge to tug at his collar. "Loki copped to impersonating the news reporter who covered Avengers Day several times over, but he seems fuzzy on any additional details." He stared hard across the room now, where Loki had feigned returning to his book. "Isn't that right, Lokes?" Tony asked, the nearly non-existent edge in his voice nonetheless obvious to the trained ear. 

Unfortunately, Loki's ear was fine-tuned to any and all shades of hysteria. "I'm afraid I have no idea what you're saying, Tonald," he frowned, marking his place in the book by placing one long, nimble finger between the pages. ("'Tonald?'" Clint could be heard asking.) "Perhaps all that time spent isolated in another dimension coupled with the stress of our Battleworld predicament has affected you in more dire a manner than initially believed." Milking the moment for all it was worth, his faux sympathetic expression nonetheless masked (poorly) an undercurrent of sarcasm. "It would behoove you - nay, behoove us all - for you to seek out any available medical attention. Perhaps Doctor Strange can run some tests once he's finished making his daily allotment of balloon animals, or however he spends his time," Loki suggested.

"Okay, I get it." Tony's voice and facial expression were placid. "You don't want to admit you liked it. That's fine." Unfortunately, he could not hold his tongue beyond that point. "Is the whole drag thing part of the fun? Do you get into all the lacy lingerie and whatnot? Because you certainly had a wide array to choose fr-"

"Tony." Steve's tone was disapproving, and only made Tony a little erect. "That's enough. There's kids here, remember?"

"Yeah, and even us old fogies aren't particularly interested in being regaled with the sexploits of Battleworld's most prominent billionaire-slash-playboy," Clint added. "Again."

"Slash-philanthropist," Tony muttered. He looked at Loki again, who was watching him with but a thin veneer of clinical compassion overlaying his obvious and extreme mirth. "I guess if I have to, there's old security footage I can call up to figure it out, even without a fully functioning JARVIS."

Loki seemed to sense that the energy in the room was not going to remain on his side for much longer, and stood up abruptly. "Thor," he wheedled, "Stark's unfortunate outburst has only just reminded me of a pressing matter that we must discuss. Privately. Now."

"I, of course, brother." The video game controller and array of snacks before Thor were unceremoniously abandoned, though Tony noticed that Loki still toted the book he'd been reading with him as he interlocked arms with his brother. Their gazes met one last time before the two Asgardians left the room, Loki shooting Tony a triumphant serpentine smile that Tony didn't bother pointing out to the others.

"It's good to see them getting along so well." Kamala was now giving Bilgie a belly rub. "I love our big, weird, superhero family!" ("At least they aren't 'getting along' on the kitchen counter this time," Black Widow observed. 

"Come on, really?!" Hawkeye exclaimed, dismayed.)

Taking stock of the scene, Tony silently bid goodbye to the security records that Loki was almost certainly going to utterly decimate around his latest endeavor involving Thor's bed sheets. "It has its moments," he replied to Kamala. Rubbing his temples, he recalled with fondness (peppered with bitterness, or perhaps vice-versa, he wasn't sure) a time not so long ago when his home hadn't been littered with teenagers or monster pets or Lokis, and wondered if he could convince the Beyonder to replenish the Tower's fast depleting booze supply.

3.

"Come on, just tell me," Tony begged again while the two of them by chance occupied the elevator together some time later. "What do you remember about anything cowgirl-related, reverse or otherwise?"

The doors opened. "Pass," Loki chirped as he exited the enclosed space; as the doors slid shut anew, however, Tony heard the echo of a blithely muttered, "Yeehaw."

4\. 

Their nebulous sexual scorecard remained a source of discomfort between them, to Loki's apparent delight. Tony attempted to ignore it, especially as they were tasked with working together directly to repair Asgard's busted Bifrost so they could end this weird little experiment once and for all, but that proved almost more difficult than confronting it directly.

"You sure that isn't you right now?" Megan McLaren was currently giving a mid-day report on vacation options in Battleworld's charmingly named Valley of Doom ("don't forget your cowboy hats, folks!"). Tony snorted and then added, "didn't peg you as having a Wild West fetish."

"You haven't pegged me at all." Loki was surprisingly well-educated on Midgardian euphemisms for sex acts; Tony wondered who had introduced him to Urban Dictionary; he strongly suspected Peter Parker, but would likely blame it on Clint. Loki smiled beatifically at him then with all of his teeth showing. "Too bad you cannot say the same, Tonald."

"What is your deal?!" Tony stood up from the stool upon which he'd been perched almost quickly enough to give himself vertigo. Loki raised an aristocratic eyebrow while he took a moment to steady himself. "You just don't quit, do you? The joke's never over, is it?" 

Loki continued to smirk. "Not until I get bored, no. To be certain, however," he continued, "I wasn't joking about that. You're welcome, by the way."

Tony shrugged. "I mean, I can't verify that one way or the other, can I?"

"What do you mean?" Loki queried, looking uncertain for the first time in a while. Emboldened, Tony pressed on.

"It's just that, you know, without clear separation between things I definitely did with you versus your beguiling alter ego, I can't fairly assess either. Who knows, maybe her backseat hanky panky is more spirited than yours."

"Your butler seemed to find ours spirited enough judging by how long he complained about having to complete that drive-thru order while it was happening," Loki offered.

Tony waved a hand. "Happy was just mad when your underwear sailed into his lap while he was trying to procure us some post-coital fast food. He's fine, he got a more than generous Christmas bonus last year." 

"I'm pretty sure that was your underwear," Loki smirked. 

Tony shrugged, rearranging his face back into practiced boredom. "Anywho, my point stands. Maybe your prowess doesn't extend in- slash onto the bedroom slash bathroom slash pool table slash swimming pool slash Hawkeye's closet as far as you'd like people to believe, Lokes."

"Touche," Loki bit back, but Tony smelled blood now. He drew closer. "Your insecurities about your own sordid sexual reputation have little to do with me," Loki added, eyeing Tony's gradually advancing frame. "Or Megan, or all of the other cowgirls you've reversed, for that matter."

"Yeah, well." Tony watched Loki overtly shift in discomfort and cross his arms. Their legs nearly touched now. "I think they do involve you. Furthermore," he adds, moving in for the kill, "I think you had fun all those times."

"What times?" Loki breathed obstinately, eyes flashing. (On-screen in the lab: "Coming up in the next half hour: An interview with the Valley's newest sheriff, including his plans for cracking down on littering in town. Hint: It involves an all-dinosaur police force.")

Tony grinned. "All of them." When he reached out to brush a tendril of dark hair behind Loki's ear, he was not rebuffed. "I'm calling your bluff, Lokes."

"Do not start things you can't finish, Stark," Loki hissed.

"You know," Tony pressed on, "in this light, you can barely see all your gray hairs."

"Why you-" Loki began, but Tony's mouth on his suddenly muffled the assuredly terrible litany of insults meant to follow. He granted permission to Tony's tongue to seek entrance into his mouth momentarily, and then plunged his own into Tony's in an obvious show of dominance. "You don't have it in you," Loki snarled once the kiss broke, and Tony began sucking marks down his neck. Reaching out, he gripped the t-shirt Tony was currently wearing, and ripped it clean in two in one smooth movement.

"I've apparently had it in me plenty of times," Tony riffed, and then retaliated by ripping open the front of Loki's pants. "I'd ask whether that was your trouser snake or if you were just happy to see me," he continued, shoving his hand into the opening he'd made, "but in your case, it could literally be both."

"Do you ever stop talking?" Loki violently tugged Tony's jeans and underwear to his knees. Tony gripped his cock then, and he growled. "Self-flagellation is a pathetic habit, Tonald."

"If I recall correctly," Tony panted, enjoying the way Loki's lashes fluttered when he tugged and twisted his already hardened nipples, "you were the one doing the flagellating, 'Megan.'"

"And your partner here, Groot, is the associate sheriff?" The real Megan McLaren was asking on-screen. In Tony's lab proper, Loki focused furiously on hating the way Tony was currently laving his ballsac. "Pathetic," he grunted, and bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. 

Tony glanced up at where Loki's hands were gripping the countertop hard enough to turn his knuckles white. "I am Groot," he mumbled around Loki's cock, and was still laughing even after his sudden gagging and coughing fit from Loki face-fucking him had subsided.

5\. 

It wasn't Wild West Land, but the small tavern up the street from the Tower was a nice change of scenery, plus alcohol, minus kids and bilgesnipes whose farts could peel paint and Lokis. For his part, Tony was enjoying nursing his frothing mug of beer and the relative peace and quiet of the atmosphere. 

The stool beside him was occupied suddenly. "Whatever's on tap," an all-too-familiar voice told the bartender; without turning his head, Tony greeted her. "Megan McLaren, the one and only."

"Mr. Stark. Ditto. And pleasure." The reporter looked in person nominally how she usually did on television, with the addition of a few hairs out of place and other hallmarks of what had likely been a multi-hour work day. "You're looking well," she continued, pausing to take a long drink from the full glass that had just been placed in front of her. "I mean, as well as anyone can possibly be in this fucking sandbox." 

Tony laughed. "Cheers," he offered, and they toasted. "To old friends, cold beer, and dismantling Battleworld's infrastructure piece by piece. May it happen sooner than later."

Megan set her nearly emptied mug down and wiped at her upper lip, possibly for longer than was perfunctorily necessary. "So what does the great Tony Stark do in the meantime?" she asked. Her gaze was a tad bleary, likely from the combination of alcohol and general exhaustion. 

Tony blinked. A long moment passed between them, in which he briefly contemplated several details (Megan's lipstick matched her skirt suit), possibilities (including the odds that this wasn't, in fact, just an uncanny meetcute), and scenarios ("It's short for 'Anthony,' no- aaahh, not so rough, King of Queens, I need to have enough hair left to dye after this"). Finally, just as his bar buddy was about to rescind her offer to become bar buddies with benefits, he shrugged. "Fuck it."

"Your place," Megan McLaren told him, draining her glass and grabbing her purse. "Let's go, I have an eleven o'clock broadcast to prep for later."

("This is ... Megan McL - urgh - McLaren, signing ... off ... back to you, Tonald.")

"Yes, ma'am," Tony replied, and whether he was walking a little lopsidedly as a result of the uncomfortable bar stool, or some other inexplicable reason, he managed to keep apace with his lady friend whom he was at least seventy percent certain wasn't Loki as they hurried back to the Tower together for a quickie.


End file.
